


i know (you already know that)

by historiologies



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: College AU, M/M, fake dating au, implied side soonwoo, side junhoon, side wheesa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-19 18:28:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12415566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/historiologies/pseuds/historiologies
Summary: "I need a favor. I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend."Minghao knows scenarios like this never end well.A Fake Dating AU.





	i know (you already know that)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [triggerswaggiehavoc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/triggerswaggiehavoc/gifts).



> Happy birthday to my dearest soulfriend!! As is tradition, I gift you fic which aspires to not be terrible; even if this fic is not at all worthy of you, I hope it makes you smile even a little. I hope I did your second favorite pair even a little bit of justice, because you deserve the greatest of happiness today, your day, aka the best day ever. I'm so happy to be your soulfriend. I'm so happy to know you and I wish you all the love and happiness today and everyday of your lovely existence! ILUSM.
> 
> To everyone else, well, I hope you like this. It's a little non-linear but I hope everything makes sense anyhow. Jeonghao are the sweetest and cutest, most doting and casually affectionate pairs, and deserve so much more content. If you liked it, please consider writing them. Thank you in advance :)

“I need a favor.”

Minghao looks up from his accounting homework, startled, into the face of the person who had just plopped down in the seat in front of him at the diner he frequents for studying. He blinks a few times before replying. “Jeonghan?”

Jeonghan Yoon, senior Architecture major, gives him a big grin. “I promise it will be worth your while.” He tosses back his head, his long dark brown bangs falling into his eyes anyway.

Minghao is still trying to wrap his head around the first sentence. He puts down his pencil, lifts a hand, takes a sip of his now lukewarm cup of coffee.

Jeonghan sits patiently until Minghao puts down the drink and speaks again.

“Okay. Continue.”

“Do you remember Wheein? Wheein Jung?”

Minghao’s brow furrows. “Uh, Psych senior last year Wheein Jung?”

“That’s the one,” Jeonghan says, nodding. He reaches over to pick up a fry, avoids Minghao’s half-hearted slap at his hand to navigate the piece into his mouth. “She’s taking her masters at the Hilltop. In Behavioral Sciences, or something or other.”

“Ugh, the Hilltop. I had class there last sem. A struggle,” Minghao says, making a face. He’s relaxed by now, companionably sharing fries with Jeonghan, ignoring the little niggle in his chest he identifies as pleasure at seeing the other—Jeonghan had been busy with graduation requirements the past few weeks, so he hadn’t dropped by the set of benches by the student center where Minghao and the rest of their friends often hung out recently. Minghao had gotten used to seeing Jeonghan almost every day for the past year and a half he’d been going to St. Francis University, so honestly, seeing him today was a nice surprise.

Not that Minghao would volunteer that information, of course.

Jeonghan murmurs in assent. “I used to have an elective there. American History with Simone. Ugh.”

“How’d you do?”

“An A, but the struggle to get up those stairs every time was so real.” Jeonghan takes a napkin, wipes the oil off his fingers before clasping his fingers together. “Anyway, Wheein is conducting a study for one of her classes and she needs volunteers for research. Participants get paid. _Paid_ , Minghao. I already told Wheein I’d do it.”

Minghao leans back, crosses his arms. “Okay, that’s nice for you. What do you need me for?”

Jeonghan twiddles his thumbs, blinks his eyes in a manner he’s probably convinced himself is cute. “There’s a slight catch.”

Of course there is. “What is it?” He narrows his eyes as Jeonghan shines his most charming smile at him.

“I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

Unfortunately, Minghao chooses right before Jeonghan says this to pick up and drink from his glass of water. The liquid gets stuck in his throat and he splutters unattractively. Jeonghan makes a noise of concern, but remains seated as Minghao coughs violently, glaring at him.

“Surely the idea isn’t that terrible,” Jeonghan deadpans.

Minghao coughs a few more times before he clears his throat. “You need me to what?”

“The study is about relationships, and the volunteers have to come in pairs, or trios. Wheein’s not narrow-minded, nor is she very picky,” Jeonghan explains, his hands moving gently with his words as if they could somehow convey how it was absolutely imperative that he be a part of this study. “I figured I could do this with someone and earn an easy buck.”

“I’ll split it with you, if that’s what’s worrying you,” Jeonghan tries to sound reassuring.

Minghao stares at him. “That’s what you think I’m worried about?”

Jeonghan stares back. “Well what else would you be worried about?”

“Gee, Jeonghan, I don’t know,” Minghao replies sarcastically. “Maybe the part about me being your fake boyfriend?”

“Why would that part worry you?” Jeonghan, to his credit, looks genuinely confused as he takes a sip from Minghao’s cup of water.

“Because? I’m not? Your boyfriend?” Minghao’s voice jumps at least half a scale with every broken statement; Seungkwan, their new freshman friend, would have been very impressed.

“Minghao,” Jeonghan smiles patiently. “That’s why you have to be my fake one. Keep up.”

“This is insane,” Minghao exclaims, throwing his hands up. “I can’t pretend to be your boyfriend for _money_.”

“Why not?” Jeonghan asks, pouting. “Plenty of people would love to be my fake boyfriend for free.”

“First of all, it’s ridiculous,” Minghao argues, raising a finger with every point made. “Second of all, it’s dishonest. Third of all, isn’t Wheein your friend? Wouldn’t she know you’re faking it? Fourth of all—”

“Okay fine, I get the picture.” Jeonghan leans forward until his chin is perched atop a nest of his folded arms, and he tilts his head. “But let me just say that this will mean a lot to me. I know _you’re_ really rich and all, but the money would go a lot towards making my last few months here bearable. I’ve been eating nothing but instant noodles and toast for food for weeks. I would just really like to have a nice meal at a good restaurant a few times before I graduate.”

He reaches out, takes Minghao’s hand in both his. “Please, Minghao? Please?”

Minghao wants to protest, wants to tug his hand out of both of Jeonghan’s and tell him how ridiculous he find his plan. Which is a lot. It’s borderline _ludicrous_ , really, and should not be taken seriously by anyone. No self-respecting soon-to-be member of the workforce should legitimately entertain ideas like this. Minghao still has two years to go, but Jeonghan’s graduating soon, and he can’t go around campus throwing himself at whoever would agree to fake date him for a buck. That’s just… silly, right?

_Right?_

“Why me?” comes out of Minghao’s mouth instead of the “No” he had truly and fully intended to say.

Jeonghan smiles, and Minghao tries not to turn red when he realizes that Jeonghan’s fingers are playing with the tips of his hand, gently massaging them in his grip.

“Because you’re too nice to say no to me.”

Minghao frowns at this. He’s not sure he likes being nutshelled like this so easily.

“Plus, the study is supposed to be research on cross-cultural relationships and you were the first one who came to mind.”

“Cross-cultural?” Minghao says, tugging his hand out of Jeonghan’s. The corner of his lip tugs downward as he considers this. “What’s so cross-cultural about us?”

It’s the closest he’ll ever come to saying yes without saying the actual word.

Jeonghan sits up again, as if realizing that he has somehow gotten Minghao on board. “I’m Korean. You’re Chinese. Cross-cultural!”

“Dude,” Minghao says to him with dead eyes. “We’re both American.”

Jeonghan waves a hand dismissively. “Semantics. Anyway, I’m supposed to meet Wheein tomorrow for the briefing at the Hilltop. Meet me there?”

Minghao takes one bite of his burger, chews for awhile before eventually sighing. “What time?”

The smile Jeonghan shoots him is absolutely beatific.

***

When Minghao first started at SFU, he was terrified. Coming from a little town in Michigan, he was absolutely positive he wouldn’t be able to find anyone to get along with. The only reason he signed up here was because he had a cousin who graduated from here a few years earlier and he was always fascinated with all his stories of San Francisco, of the school and of the people.

“The people at SFU are colorful, fascinating and truly themselves,” Zhoumi had told him before, when he was convincing Minghao to apply. “I went there without a real sense of being, and figured out who I was running from class to the library to the student center to the local bar to the dorm and it’s just… it’s a good time.”

“The core curriculum helps, of course. The Jesuits are really cool. But mostly it’s how they leave you to be who you want to be. Maybe it’s the vibe of the city infusing the system, but it’s really nice. You’d like it there, Minghao.”

Business Administration seemed a safe enough course for him and the family business that was waiting for him in Michigan, but he was still a little apprehensive about where to find friends. He was convinced he would spend most of his days locked up in his dorm, watching anime reruns and eating yogurt in his pajamas. Zhoumi had told him to join student organizations and that’s what he did. He met Junhui, an Architecture sophomore, and Soonyoung, a Performing Arts major, through dance club, and they took him under his wing, and also introduced him to Jeonghan.

He was a freshman when he met Jeonghan, and Jeonghan was a junior—he had long hair then, and was taking the same course as Junhui. When he met Jeonghan, Minghao was shy and self-contained, wary about his weird clipped accent with hints of Chinese that still lingered because he had spent most of his youth growing up with his cousins and the other members of his family. Minghao’s first memory of Jeonghan was of him asking, very kindly, if anyone had shown him around the city yet. He’d said no, and Jeonghan promptly came up with impromptu weekend get-togethers, either with friends he’d dragged along, or between just the two of them.

Slowly, Minghao got to know his foster city through bottles of beer, shared mini donuts by the Wharf, bites of sour dough in the morning, and trips up and down the hills on the infamous trolleys that zigzag through, with Jeonghan as his self-appointed tour guide. Slowly, Minghao got to know more people, as Jeonghan pulled in friends and classmates to go with them—it’s how he managed to find himself a part of a loose circle of friends who never made him feel alone, whether it was learning to skateboard around the park (with Vernon) or visiting art galleries and museums (with Mingyu). Eventually, Minghao realized that Zhoumi was right, and that slowly but surely, Minghao was becoming more of himself without even realizing it.

If someone asked Minghao to describe Jeonghan that first year, he would have said that Jeonghan, with his long lavender hair and angular cheekbones, was in-your-face, mischievous, sly, delightful. He used to be so intimidated by his sheer presence, but eventually, during the sixth or seventh weekend of them dipping in and out of the essential oils and book stores at the Castro, Jeonghan’s arm around his shoulders as he pointed out different things to look at, Minghao realized that being here felt different, and for the first time since he arrived at San Francisco, he felt that he made the right decision leaving his comfort zone.

“Haohao,” Jeonghan said, one day, while picking at a pizza slice. “Will you finish this for me?”

“You ordered it,” Minghao said, shrugging. “You should finish it.”

Jeonghan pouted. “Ah, you kids grow up so fast. Just the other day you were as shy as a caterpillar in a cocoon, but now you’re sassing me. I see how it is.” Minghao would have apologized but the pleased little smile on Jeonghan’s face told him that he was fine.

“I’m not a caterpillar,” Minghao groused.

Jeonghan smiled softly at him, then, before cackling under his breath. “Sure are as prickly as one.”

Minghao flicked the paper his straw came in at him, and Jeonghan laughed his weird little giggle, before finishing the rest of his pizza in two bites.

***

“What took you so long?”

Minghao pants, his thighs screaming for mercy after the sprint up the equivalent of eight flights of stairs, and he tries his best to give Jeonghan the most terrible glare he can muster while sweat streamed steadily down his neck. “Excuse me, Mr. I-only-have-one-evening-class-today, some of us came from the other side of campus right before this.”

Jeonghan holds his hands up, looking fresh as a daisy in a crisp white shirt and snug jeans. “Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

“It’s not that,” Minghao grumbles, rolling his eyes. He collapses onto the bench next to Jeonghan. “You couldn’t have scheduled this later?”

“Miscommunication already,” Jeonghan muses, shaking his head sadly. “We have our work cut out for us, Haohao.”

“I told you to stop calling me that,” Minghao mutters, taking the napkin Jeonghan offers him and mopping up the worst of his sweat. He tosses the tissue in the trash bin next to him, and sighs. “Don’t call me that.”

“You will learn, Haohao,” Jeonghan says, extremely deliberately, smiling at the glare he gets from Minghao. “That I cannot be in a relationship without sickly cute pet names.”

“I want to break up,” Minghao declares immediately.

“Sure, sure,” Jeonghan replies. He holds out his hand, and takes Minghao’s when he spends too much time staring at it. “But not before we get paid.”

***

“Hello,” Wheein greets them as they open the door to the room, smiling brightly. Graduating sits well with her; she looks relatively well-rested and every time she moves her head the curve of her newly-cut bob swings around her chin. “Jeonghan and… I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“This is Minghao,” Jeonghan speaks for him. Minghao smiles and nods, steps forward to shake Wheein’s hand. She’s sitting on one of the chairs of the conference room she’s reserved for meeting up with all her participants for the briefing, and she gestures for them to take some seats in front of her.

“So, Jeonghan,” Wheein starts, tucking her hair behind her ear. She clicks on the tip of her pen, puts it to paper. “It’s been awhile. How’d you find out about this?”

“Seungcheol mentioned it,” Jeonghan replies coolly.

“Did he now?”

“He did,” Jeonghan confirms. He places his chin on the elbow he has perched on the table, and grins at Wheein. “And when he did, I jumped at the chance to help out my favorite senior with her newest endeavor.” The tone of his voice is syrupy and it takes a lot out of MInghao not to cringe.

“Oh brother,” Wheein says, a wry grin on her face.

“Plus, it just so happens that I am exactly the profile you are looking for.”

Wheein snorts. “And what is that?”

“Attached.”

Minghao tries not to gulp when Wheein leans forward, eyes narrowed. Her nails are colored in bright red, and they glint under the conference room light when she wiggles them under her chin. He doesn’t know her very well, but she looks like she could very cheerfully kick his ass.

“You know, Jeonghan, Seungcheol never said you were dating anyone,” she says conversationally, and Minghao knows that they’re treading on thin ice before they’ve even begun. “And I was just with him the other day.”

Jeonghan shrugs. “Seungcheol doesn’t know everything, but he certainly knows better than to broadcast my personal life to everyone we know.”

Wheein raises a slim eyebrow. “Jeonghan, we’re casual friends at best—”

“Very casual,” Jeonghan interrupts.

“—but if I find out you’re fucking with me to get money, I’m going to kick your ass, and so will Hyejin.”

Minghao is ashamed to say that his eyes widened at the last part of Wheein’s statement. He’s heard about Wheein’s girlfriend—curvy, gorgeous, lethal—and what he’s heard honestly scares him. Before he can react, however, he feels an arm wrap around him and a chin tuck into the crook of his neck. It’s a testament to how used to Jeonghan’s clinginess he is that he doesn’t jolt at the touch, but it’s very close. Automatically, he leans his cheek against the other’s, like how they always do.

“I mean, we could makeout for you, Wheein,” Jeonghan quips, and Minghao coughs at that, surprised. “If that’s what you want.”

He pats Minghao’s back briskly, trying to quell his hacking.

Wheein purses her lips, before rolling her eyes and jotting down something in her notebook. “Alright, alright. I’ll meet you here next Tuesday. How does three-thirty sound?”

***

“Don’t be nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” Minghao hisses back at the other. He’s lying. He’s nervous. It’s not like he really thinks Wheein (or her girlfriend) would kick his ass, but he hates being dishonest, and it shows. His hands won’t stop trembling; Jeonghan has to tell him to cross his arms and tuck his fingers into his sides. The air-conditioning in the room is on full-blast; Minghao shivers and feels like it’s set to extreme judgment.

“If you’re not nervous, I’m a member of EXO,” Jeonghan retorts, before he sighs and places a hand on Minghao’s shoulder. “Hey, look at me.”

Minghao does, and Jeonghan gives him one of his small, reassuring smiles, not unlike the ones he used to give Minghao whenever he looked back at him after he’d suddenly strode into a random store. “Listen, I don’t want to do this if it freaks you out. We can just tell Wheein we’re pulling out, and that’s okay.”

He looks at Jeonghan then, willing to give up a respectable amount of money all because he’s shaking just a little. He’s about to say that this might be the first time he’s being a selfless being, but he stops himself because that’s not true. Mischief and candor is what characterizes a friendship with Jeonghan but underlying all of it is an incredibly generous spirit, one that doesn’t think twice about spending time with a friend when he’s sad or taking time out from his schedule to tutor a lowerclassman in calculus or taking someone out to eat pizza when money isn’t a bottomless resource.

He owes Jeonghan a lot, even if Jeonghan would be annoyed to find out Minghao was thinking this way, and if there’s a way for him to pay that back, then he’d manage.

Minghao inhales, then exhales. “I’m fine, don’t worry about it.” He looks up as Wheein enters the room, and Jeonghan squeezes his shoulder.

“Show time,” he whispers under his breath, and Minghao nods with as much confidence as he can muster.

***

Minghao shuts the door behind him, and locks it for good measure. He’s one of the privileged few who owns a solo dorm, and he gets a lot of teasing from Soonyoung and Wonwoo, who lived on the same floor, to switch places with them but he pays them no mind, especially since a part of him thinks that they’re saying this as a way to detract from admitting that they enjoyed being roommates. He tosses his jacket towards his desk, before turning back to his bed.

He raises an eyebrow. “Comfortable?”

“Immensely,” Jeonghan says, eyes closed but pleased smile on his face. He opens one eye and looks up at Minghao, and Minghao tries to ignore how nice he looks on his bed, curled up and relaxed, head pillowed on one crooked arm. He’s clutching one of Minghao’s pillows to him, and Minghao can’t help but hope that it’s not the one he constantly drools on.

“Get up,” Minghao complains, prodding Jeonghan’s leg to make room for him on his bed. “We have to work on our backstory so Wheein doesn’t kick your butt.” Luckily, they’re both skinny enough to fit on Minghao’s tiny single bed, though the proximity makes Minghao scoot all the way to the edge.

“My butt? You should be getting some part of your anatomy kicked too,” Jeonghan says. He closes his eyes again, snuggles into his arms more soundly. “Anyway, yes, backstory. Go on.”

Minghao frowns. “We should keep it simple. Common friend.”

Jeonghan’s eyes open, and he shakes his head sadly at Minghao. “Where is your imagination, Haohao?” Begrudgingly, he sits up, crossing his legs at the ankles and leaning against the wall. “Look. We met through Junhui, yes, but then I showed you around the city because you were new, and we started from there.”

Well that wasn’t too far from the truth. “That sounds okay,” Minghao says, nodding slowly.

“You started liking me because I was your gateway to this new intriguing city,” Jeonghan says, beaming down at Minghao. “And I started liking you back because you kept making this cute expression with your eyes whenever you were really curious about something but wondered internally about how to phrase things in a way that you thought wouldn’t bother me.”

Minghao’s eyebrows almost shoot clear off his face.

“I did?”

“Well-well yeah,” Jeonghan says, tripping over his words a little. For the first time since he met him, Minghao sees a flush color Jeonghan’s cheeks and he furrows his brow at the foreign sight. “I mean, yeah, it’s-it’s pretty cute.”

“Anyway,” Jeonghan follows up quickly. “I asked you out, you said yes, and we’ve been lowkey dating ever since.”

“Um… sounds simple enough,” Minghao murmurs, still thinking about the way Jeonghan’s eyes cut away while talking about Minghao’s face.

“Minghao,” Jeonghan says all of a sudden, a little edge to his voice.

“Huh?”

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Looking at me like that, with _that_ face,” Jeonghan says pointedly, slightly exasperated.

Minghao’s mouth drops open. “What are you talking about?”

“God, just like a boy,” Jeonghan rolls his eyes up to the ceiling and sighs, before lowering his head and fixing Minghao with a tiny patient smile. “Someone tells you that you look cute a certain way and immediately you do just that.”

“Do… what?” Minghao is thoroughly confused.

Jeonghan lets out a small puff of laughter, shakes his head. “Never mind. Forget it.”

***

Minghao watches Wheein’s pen flying across her notebook, pleased. He leans back against the plush leather chair, snuggling a little against Jeonghan’s outstretched arm. He seems to be doing that more recently.

Wheein finally looks up as she clicks her pen to retract the tip of it. “Well. That was productive.”

“I’ll say,” Jeonghan mutters under his breath so only Minghao hears him. He smiles at Wheein when Minghao clasps his hand tightly, warning him.

“Has anything changed between the two of you recently?”

Minghao furrows his brow, pouts a little at her question. “What do you mean?”

Wheein shrugs, eyes still on her notes. “I just noticed that Minghao’s taken a more active role in the discussions.”

“Oh,” Minghao says. He shrugs, trying not to let the blush reach his cheeks. “I guess I just became more comfortable with everything. Like, the whole concept of the study.”

“Well, that’s great,” Wheein says. She finally looks up, flashes both of them a big smile. “I’m glad you’re more comfortable now.”

“Me too,” Jeonghan says. Minghao looks at him, and it’s the gratitude in his eyes that makes him pause.

“Hey,” Minghao says, shrugging. “For science, right?”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “You are such a lowkey nerd.”

***

“Make room.”

Minghao looks up from his sketchbook. “Oh. Hey.” He swings his legs off the bench in the back of the second floor of the student area, so that Wonwoo could plop down next to him, which he does. He goes back to sketching as Wonwoo peels off his denim jacket, rolls it into a ball and uses it as a makeshift pillow in his arms.

He gives Wonwoo a little side eye glance when he starts muttering various curse words under his breath appended to a familiar name. “Are you and Soonyoung fighting again?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” is the answer Minghao gets, muffled through the thick material. Wonwoo sits up again and scrunches his eyes shut, gives an aggravated sigh. “He’s stupid and I hate him.”

“There, there,” Minghao murmurs, already returning to his sketch. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Absolutely not,” Wonwoo says. He elbows Minghao in the side, and Minghao lets out an annoyed little noise, leaning away from Wonwoo to avoid being attacked again. “Hey, how’s that thing with Jeonghan going?”

Minghao pauses. He thinks about how Jeonghan has been taking care of him, making sure to fill in the awkward silences with stories of the two of them, familiar to them both except tweaked just a little to follow the narrative they’ve established between them both. He thinks about how he’s learned more about Jeonghan in their little half hour sessions three times a week, how Jeonghan’s always got a secure arm around his waist, how he’s even started to miss it when they’re outside the room.

He shrugs. “They’ve been going okay, I think.”

“God. I wish I’d thought of it,” Wonwoo sighs. “I’d do a lot of things with that money.”

“You and Soonyoung would kill each other before the end of the month,” Minghao points out, erasing a little part of his sketch before continuing to shade part of the page.

“Who _said_ I’d even ask him to fake date me? No, I’d ask someone else. Someone much nicer and much better-looking. Like Yebin.”

“Sure you would,” Minghao says, amused. Their whole group had a betting pool on who would cave first between Wonwoo and Soonyoung; Minghao is thinking about taking a more active role soon, as he had put a fifty on “Wonwoo, the summer before their senior year” and they were already close to the end of the semester.

(Close to Jeonghan graduating and leaving, but Minghao doesn’t want to think about that just yet.)

“Anyway, they’re going okay. I think Wheein’s still suspicious though.”

Wonwoo shrugs. He starts fiddling with his phone, turns on a mobile game that Minghao knows drives Soonyoung up the wall. “You should be more pro-active then? Otherwise, this will all be for bust.”

Minghao thinks about disappointing Jeonghan and realizes it’s the last thing he wants to do. “I guess.”

Wonwoo makes a noise between a squeal and a growl, and a sad sounding horn noise from his phone tells Minghao that in the battle between phone and man, phone had triumphed. He pouts, before putting his phone down, waiting for a new battle to load. “What are you doing this for anyway? You don’t need the money.”

Minghao stops. He gives Wonwoo a dismissive shrug, but his question plagues him for the rest of the afternoon and follows him all the way back to his dorm.

_What was he doing this for anyway?_

***

“Hey!”

Minghao looks up, and then down as a hand reaches down to pick up a fry on his plate. “Hey yourself,” Minghao says, bemused. “Get your own fries, Jeonghan.”

“Yours are better,” Jeonghan says cheekily. He settles into the booth where Minghao is situated, grabs the bottle of ketchup on the far side of Minghao’s table, past the piles of books and notes spread messily across. “What are you studying?”

“American Lit,” Minghao answers absent-mindedly.

“Who do you have for that again?”

“Mendoza.”

“Oh, I heard he’s pretty cool? For a freshman lit class.”

“He is,” Minghao says. He’s abandoned note-taking for the time being because talking with Jeonghan is far more interesting. “I’m thinking of doing my paper on the application of queer theory on the works of Virginia Woolf. He really likes her.”

“Queer theory on big old V? It’s a little well-worn topic by now,” Jeonghan points out. He nibbles on a fry thoughtfully. “Why not someone else?”

Minghao fiddles with his pencil. “I really just want to delve into the whole thing about…” He gestures wildly, trying to get his thoughts across. Jeonghan smiles at his effort. “Like, the whole thing about how she conveyed so much of her sexuality through her works. You know. Chloe liked Olivia. All of that. See it through a gender and queer studies lens.”

Jeonghan makes a noise of assent. “If you’re really into that, go for it. Don’t let me stop you.” A waiter swings by and hands Jeonghan a strawberry milkshake. Minghao raises his eyebrow as Jeonghan thanks him with a sly wink.

“You’re friendly.”

“Don’t be jealous,” Jeonghan teases him, before throwing his head back in laughter. “I’m just teasing. Hank and I are just friends. He likes it when I flirt with him. Makes him feel cute and stuff. He’s harmless.” He takes a sip, looks up at Minghao. “What?”

“Nothing,” Minghao replies, way too quickly.

“You want to know something,” Jeonghan says. He says it firmly, like a statement, rather than as a question. “I see it in your face, Minghao.”

“It’s nothing, I just-I don’t want to sound all weird…”

“You won’t know unless you ask, right?”

Minghao breathes deeply, before asking in one long exhale. “How did you know you were gay?”

Jeonghan blinks at the question, before leaning back to think about the answer. “Gosh. It’s been a long time since I thought about that.” He shrugs, takes another sip. “Probably around middle school? Yeah, it wasn’t a big deal. I just figured out that my physical responses to guys and girls were not society’s expected responses.”

“Did your family…?”

“Did they accept me for who I was?” Jeonghan clarifies Minghao’s question. He snorts a little after Minghao nods, but he gives him a cheeky smile. “We lived in San Francisco but my parents were—are—still very conservative. I stayed in the closet until about my junior year in high school. Then I went to prom with a really nice guy; he picked me up and everything. Really sweet. His name was Brian.”

“My parents stayed up all night waiting for me to come home. When I did they were so… I guess, confused, is the word? I just tried to explain it the best way I could, and told them that it was who I was, and that was it.”

“Honestly,” Jeonghan continues. “I’m really lucky, because my parents dealt with it the best way they could. Eventually they came to realize that they’d rather I be in their lives than not. My mom spoils the guys I date terribly, always making sure they’re well-fed and all, and my dad, well, he does his best. He’s not overjoyed the times I bring a guy home, but he’s not barring us from coming in.”

“Why did you decide to come out when you did?” Minghao leans forward, elbows squared on the table. Jeonghan’s telling all this without a single flinch, no iota of hesitation, and Minghao wants to know how he can.

Jeonghan shrugs. “Everyone’s experience with coming out is different, but for me… it just came to a point where I realized that I just didn’t want to hide who I was anymore. There’s no special story here, Minghao. I just didn’t want to harbor this mentality that being gay was something that I should hide, because it’s a part of who I am. That’s it.”

Minghao listens to his words, turning them over and over in his head. He’s known he’s liked both boys and girls ever since he was in the fifth grade, but he’s only ever dated one girl in his life. The thought of having his mom and dad find out that he could like boys… people think he’s a courageous person, but deep inside, he knows that he pushed to go to college out of state so that he could spend that time away from his family to figure out who he really was, to paint a whole picture, before he went home to Michigan to determine if he was brave enough to show that picture to his family. He thinks of Jeonghan, younger, smaller, less confident but no less determined.

There is being brave, and there is being brave like Jeonghan, and Minghao doesn’t know which he finds more fascinating.

“Any other questions?” Jeonghan asks, peering into Minghao’s face not unkindly. He gives him a quiet smile, as if he knows what is running through Minghao’s mind. “I’ve almost finished your fries.”

Minghao shifts uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, that was a lot.”

Jeonghan shrugs, takes a sip. The straw makes a strange guttural sound as he sucks whipped cream through it. “If I didn’t want to answer you, I wouldn’t have told you anything. Besides,” he stops, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s you.”

Minghao looks down, feels heat rush to the tips of his ears. He’s not exactly sure what that means. “Th-thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

“Pffft,” Jeonghan huffs. He takes the last fry, uses it to point at Minghao. “Stop this fake embarrassment this instance and tell me what you think about Hank.”

“Huh?”

“I mean, he’s more straight than not, but he’s not bad isn’t he?”

Minghao somehow senses that Jeonghan is feeling out for something that isn’t related to Hank. He chuckles, finding his lack of subtlety endearing. “I guess. He’s not really my type.”

“Ooh, tell me what your type is.”

“I like… nice eyes. Great smiles…”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes playfully. “Boring.”

“A six pack that I could lick chocolate syrup off wouldn’t be terrible, either.”

Jeonghan gasps scandalously, and Minghao has never seen his eyes shine so bright. “Minghao Xu, you saucy little gumdrop. I feel like I should get another milkshake for this.” Jeonghan leans forward, eager and interested, and Minghao can’t help but laugh. In that moment, he’s really really glad he knows Jeonghan.

***

“Wheein seems really happy.”

Halfway down the front steps already, Jeonghan looks up and behind him at Minghao’s words. The bags under his eyes seem to have grown heavier over the past week, dark and violet under the harsh afternoon sun. Minghao can’t believe it’s took him this long to notice. “Yeah, seems like she is.”

“And she said the next session is the last one?”

“Mmmm,” Jeonghan replies wearily. He waits for Minghao to catch up to him before they begin their trek down to the bottom of the Hilltop stairs; Jeonghan has his head lowered, and Minghao’s never been more conscious of the Hilltop's 106 steps until now.

“Jeonghan? Are you okay?”

Jeonghan smiles tiredly. “I’m fine, Minghao. I just didn’t realize,” and he stops a little to laugh shortly. “I didn’t realize how hard it would be to pretend.” He blinks rapidly and a curiously sad expression crosses his face for a split second. Minghao leans into Jeonghan, hand running down his back, hooking around his waist. He doesn’t know what to say, only that the brief quiver of Jeonghan’s lip is distressing him in ways he can’t really explain.

“Jeonghan… hey…” he says, unsure of what to say, only that he doesn’t want Jeonghan to be upset over anything. He nestles his head into the crook of Jeonghan’s neck. “Please.” He means to say please don’t cry, but he stops at that, fingers reaching down to intertwine with Jeonghan’s. “Please.”

He feels Jeonghan stiffen from under him. “Minghao. Minghao,” he repeats, his voice low and urgent. “What—?”

Minghao feels Jeonghan extricate his hand from his, step fully out of his grip. There’s something on his face, something close to panic—something close to fear. Minghao blinks helplessly as Jeonghan steps back, almost stumbles in his hurry to get away. From him. A little twinge of hurt pinches his chest.

“You—I think I forgot something upstairs,” he manages to say. Minghao’s never seen Jeonghan like this; even during the height of finals week, he was calm and collected. “You go on ahead. I’ll see-I’ll see you later.”

Minghao watches him run up the stairs, in a speed very unusual for Jeonghan. It’s only when he reaches the top that Minghao realizes just what had happened and he closes his eyes, rubs his hand over his face. Humiliation shoots through him, white and hot and eviscerating.

_What the fuck was he thinking?_

***

“Junhui.”

Junhui hums under his breath, twirls more noodles around on his fork.

“Junhui.”

Junhui flinches at the feel of steel poking against his knuckles, and looks up at his lunch companion. “What’s that for?”

Jihoon glares at him for being lost in his own world again, then points to a spot behind him with his chin. “Minghao’s hovering behind you.”

“Oh,” Junhui says. He spins around and finds Minghao standing behind him, looking miserable and desperate. “Minghao? What’s wrong?”

“Um,” Minghao says, his eyes cutting to Jihoon’s. The expression on Jihoon’s face is strange; it’s a mix of both worry and slight annoyance that Minghao is interrupting one of the only times he and Junhui have to spend together. Since Junhui had so many major deadlines this semester and Jihoon spent most of his time holed up in his off campus apartment, lunch was their sacred space. Minghao knows this, their whole groups knows this.

But Minghao wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.

Jihoon sighs, tugs up his shirt sleeves over his elbows. “Take the kid outside, he looks like he needs a walk.”

Junhui moves his head, in the universal gesture of ‘are you sure?’ and Jihoon waves him away. “Go. I won’t promise that your noodles will be intact though.” He gives Junhui a soft smirk, and nods.

Minghao and Junhui walk out in silence, Junhui enjoying the pleasant spat of weather they’ve been having recently, and Minghao trying to figure out the best way to start the conversation.

“So…”

“The Bay looks really pretty from here, don’t you think?” Junhui says excitedly; he shoves his hands into his bomber jacket and sighs happily. “The weather is really super nice, for an autumn in San Francisco.”

“I… I suppose.”

“It’s much warmer south of state. I really should take you down home sometime. Remind me to do that.”

“I will.”

Junhui takes one hand out of his pocket, links his arm through Minghao’s. “What’s wrong, little brother?” he asks him softly in Mandarin.

Minghao blows air out of his mouth, puffing his cheeks out like a blowfish. Here goes. “You know that I’m doing this experiment thing with Jeonghan, right?”

“Yes,” Junhui nods. “Your pretend boyfriend thing.”

Minghao sighs, leans his head on Junhui’s shoulder. “I think I might be starting to like Jeonghan.”

“Oh. Oh…” Junhui repeats, running Minghao’s words through his mind carefully. “That is… that is something.”

“It’s something alright,” Minghao says; he scowls and kicks a rock away.

“You know it’s par for the course though, right?”

Minghao looks at him; Junhui has his pointy chin digging into his shoulder and he’s looking back at him playfully. Any outside observer who glances their way may think they were sweethearts, the way they’re casually intertwined like this, but Junhui has never been more than family to him. He remembers when he first met Junhui, how Junhui had always held him, how awkward and sad he looked when Minghao told him that he didn’t see him that way, how bright his eyes have been ever since this thing with Jihoon started. Junhui was the closest thing he had to home here, their conversations always devolving into some strange mix of English and Mandarin whenever they were together by themselves. Their other friends often teased them about being in their own world and it wasn’t exactly that; Minghao just thinks that there are parts of Junhui that help him re-center himself whenever he gets knocked off-kilter.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, we’ve all kind of liked Jeonghan. I used to, Soonyoung used to, Jihoon too,” Junhui says, smiling. “It’s a thing.”

“Really?” Somehow this doesn’t make Minghao feel better, how his feelings seem to be a rite of passage. He’s not exactly sure Jeonghan would like it much either. “I didn’t realize.”

“It’s not a bad thing, it’s just… it’s him,” Junhui says, his free hand gesturing wildly. “It’s Jeonghan. Everyone’s liked him because he’s beautiful, he’s funny, and when he looks at you, it makes you feel like you’re the singular most important thing in the world. But after some time, it passes. It always does.”

Minghao’s stomach sinks and he swallows. “So it’s not just me? You’re saying that… this time it’ll pass too?”

Junhui seems to realize where his train of thought has gone, and catches the deflated expression on Minghao’s face. He shakes him, urgently. “Hey, I’m not saying that. I think you should talk to him.”

Minghao snorts. “Why on _earth_ would I do that? It sounds like a terrible idea.”

Junhui shrugs. “Jeonghan is at times incredibly hard to predict, and other times incredibly easy. I don’t know why he does what he does, but think about it: out of everyone on campus, or even in the whole of San Francisco, that he could have asked to do this, he asked you.” He tugs on Minghao’s arm to get him to look at him. “That has to count for something right?”

Minghao’s not sure what it’s supposed to count for anymore.

***

“Minghao?”

Jeonghan’s looking at him, looking as cautious and uncomfortable as he’s ever seen him. Something twists in Minghao’s stomach, and a part of him thinks about backing out from this conversation, thinks about having things go back to the way they were. He knows how things will go then; Jeonghan will graduate and move on, and he will continue with school. He’ll hang out with his friends, get stressed over exams, watch his friends fall in love and leave one, two, three at a time. He’ll go to the places he likes in the city, the places he and Jeonghan used to visit, and maybe eventually he’ll stop remembering and seeing Jeonghan around every corner of every shop he goes into. Maybe.

Then he thinks about bravery, and Jeonghan, and being brave like Jeonghan again. And he exhales.

“I have fries and milkshakes.” Minghao is sitting at one of the benches near the top of the Hilltop stairs. There’s a nice calm breeze, and it ruffles through Jeonghan’s hair nicely, making his bangs fall over his eyes. Jeonghan tosses his head back and narrows his eyes suspiciously, but sighs before sitting down next to him, the fries and drink containers in between them both.

“You better, since you made me get here twenty minutes earlier than I have to be,” Jeonghan says dryly. He takes a sip from the cup, and raises his eyebrows as he gulps. “Strawberry. You remembered.”

“Hank was very hard to forget,” Minghao deadpans, and Jeonghan laughs his strange airy laugh. The tension between them melts away into a companionable munching of oil and sugar.

“Here’s the thing…”

“Ah,” Jeonghan says. “Here we go.” He’s smiling when he says this, but there’s still a little apprehension in his eyes.

“I need to know why you _really_ asked me to be your fake boyfriend out of everyone else you could have gone to.”

“Huh.” Jeonghan absorbs the question, lowers his head. “Why do you think I asked you?” he asks after some time, voice low.

Minghao carefully puts ketchup on his individual fry before popping it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “I think you asked me because you’re fond of me, because we have a good time together, and because, like you said, I’m too nice to say no to you.”

“Can’t we just leave it at that?”

“I think all the touchiness, all the pretending, it got to you, and now you’re tired of pretending to like me when you… do.” Minghao takes a sip of his chocolate milkshake to wash down the thing that’s somehow lodged itself in his throat.

“You sound awfully sure of yourself, Haohao,” Jeonghan says, voice gravelly after a beat or two of silence. He looks up now, into Minghao’s face, and he smiles slowly.

Jeonghan reaches over and wipes a spot of ketchup off his chin, before leaning in to hold Minghao’s neck, and press his lips softly at the corner of his mouth, the part that always curved so slightly whenever the other was delighted or shy. It’s quick and fleeting, but Jeonghan leans his forehead against his after he pulls away, their noses almost touching.

“Because you’re the only one I was interested in faking being with for,” Jeonghan says, almost in a whisper.

He sits back again, and Minghao exhales, not even realizing he’d held his breath in the whole time. “Oh,” is all he can say, and the smile Jeonghan gives him is brilliant, almost dazzling.

“It takes too much effort to pretend to like someone,” Jeonghan continues, picking his milkshake back up and sipping through the straw. “So I might as well ask the person I’d have to put in the least amount of effort for. You know?”

Minghao laughs shyly, and Jeonghan’s cheeks are starting to color again. It’s the oddest, oddest way to circle back around a relationship—friends, “lovers”, friends, lovers?—but Minghao has no complaints.

“Did you know everyone liked you?”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I did. At some point, Joshua pointed it out to me. But no one ever stuck around long enough for me to like back.” Jeonghan crumbles up the empty bag of fries, scoots over to sit closer to Minghao. Slowly, he lays his head on Minghao’s shoulder, tentative and testing. Minghao lets him, leaning his head against his as he finishes his milkshake.

It feels different now, but not in a bad way. Far from it. There’s a little more tenderness and a little more warmth than before. It’s new, and not unwelcome. Another piece of the picture Minghao is forming of himself falls into place, and he feels a little more whole than before.

“We should go,” Jeonghan murmurs. “Wheein hates it when we’re late.”

“Okay,” Minghao says. “Are you still taking the money?”

Jeonghan makes a face. “Of course I am, why shouldn’t I?”

“You know why.”

“Technically,” Jeonghan points out as he stands, brushing off the crumbs from his pants. “She would get more suspicious if I didn’t actually take the money, don’t you think?”

"Right," Minghao says sarcastically. He rolls his eyes, but holds his elbow out anyway. Jeonghan tucks his arm through his and continues to plead his argument as they make their way up the stairs as a fake couple for the last time.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from the Q&A lyrics. Thanks for reading!!
> 
> Follow me on twt for random fic musings and whatnot: @allthatconfetti :)


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